Burned
by TriOxidation
Summary: A secret mole was placed by the Yard, in the organization that Moriarty controlled. Well, technically Lestrade hired the mole so really that mole was hired by him and not the yard. It's a secret, so keep it. One more thing, that mole is a woman. SHXOC.
1. Chapter 1

Professor James Moriarty, a notorious man of science. Many would think him charming and clever, a father figure, and the very definition of the gentleman. That is, one would think this when in his social graces. Away from the eyes of proper society, lies the Mr. Hyde to the appealing Mr. Jekyll. Underneath the warm exterior of a gentleman, is the cold genius of man, a leader of the largest crime organization in London and far-reaching cities. With thousands of men under his charismatic command it is quite clear how the murderer would be formidable. However, there is downfall to numerous people under one's command. It's the perfect but dangerous situation for a mole.


	2. Chapter 2

Downtown London during the early mornings is bustling with signs of life waking to a new dawn. Some people hustle down the cold streets to open shops and such hardly notice the goings of the homeless sleeping in the alleyways. Thus the usual morning begins. Just as the opening of the typewriting center. Women rush in a hurry to start work. To the average respectable person, it was a blissful day.

One street began to waken from its slumber like a dream. The morning had brought a brusque chill with the upcoming winter ahead for Roald Street. An old man sat against a wall with a ragged discolored blanket wrapped around him. A tin cup was settled in front of him waiting for donations. One buggy slowly neared "Oliver's Book printing" a dainty shop with royal blue draperies hanging in the windows waiting for the interior to be opened to the city. Half a dozen people bustled about in stuffed coats in a hurry to accomplish their own errands and tasks. Soft talking and the steady clopping of horses with the creaking of the buggy could be heard for a mile. This was another peaceful morning.

There was a soft noise coming from across "Johnson's Typography, Telegraph and Typewriting." Mumbling could be heard from a stooped figure shuffling around in the shadows directly across from the Johnson's store. A knock sounded from within the dark alleyway. The shadow of the person moved as the sound of a door creaked open. Candlelight illuminated the outline of the veiled hunchbacked figure dressed in black.

"Can ye spare me yer bread. I'm arfully 'ungry ." A high frail voice filled the silence.

"Go get food from the baker. I don' give out food." A deep resonating male voice rang out in annoyance.

"The baker wants six pence for a loaf. I don' have the money."

"I don' give food ta beggars. Depart naw. I won't be dealing wit' you!" Suddenly there was darkness as the door squeaked shut. The hunched figure seemed to disappear as a moving crate was heard against dirt then a click. Seconds later, inside an enclosed area, a lamp was lit to reveal a stooped person in a black veil and black drapery. The figure took off the black veil and robes to reveal an old woman dressed in rags. The cloak and veil were placed in a tight sealing box which she placed under a slab of rock in the pooled murky water. In her hands laid a sealed letter from her 'begging'. She scanned the contents while walking toward her unapparent destination through the pipes.

_Report on John Brown's goings, suspected crime syndicate. Meet per usual at T73P. _

"Tsking" was heard as the woman scowled at the note then burned it in her lantern.


	3. Chapter 3

_In the life of a criminal working for an underworld organization; each partner, co –conspirator or assistant assumes a pseudonym. In this kind of work, a real name would mark a person for the next killing or cause for their arrest when one is "off the job" so to speak. The less the people in that organization know about a person the greater the chance for survival. One way for this to happen is to be the least liked person in the situation. This way questions aren't asked._

"Hodgins! Brown wants this message typed and sent to the address on the paper then burn it." I looked up from my typewriter to see a disgruntled Grimm standing in front of my desk looking down at my work.

"Yessum. I'll get this typed up an' I'll get to ya in a little bit. After all you'm not a gentle bloke." I flashed my trophy of rotten teeth at him. Grimm glared back with disgust for a second before his eyes shifted through the window of the office, his body tensed when John Brown was seen sitting on a bench talking to an associate near the office. My eyes had followed his and I quirked an eyebrow. I smiled flirtatiously

"Sending messages to ya lady friend. What will she do if she found out youra polygamist? Oh,the tragedy."

"Just do it." Grimm gritted as he left the room. I stared at the paper that I was expected to type and send.

"_534 C2 13 127 36 31 4 17 21 41 _

_Douglas 109 293 5 37 Birlstone_

_26 Birlstone 9 47 171"_

Douglas Birlstone, a man who had done the dirty work for Brown once. He refused to do it a second time. I stared at the coded message knowing full well that this was not Brown's hand writing. With further analysis, the innocent looking address stood out. "221 Baker Street". A memory flashed into my mind, _A newspaper clipping pinned to John Brown's wall had an advertisement for a consulting detective of the name Sherlock Holmes right below was the address: 221 Baker Street. _'So this is how it is.' I thought back to when I had known that Grimm seemed to be on edge as of late. Obeying Grimm's earlier demands, the message was typed. I sent for a message boy to immediately send the script. My steepled fingers tapped my mouth as I stared at my typewriter. 'I will have to keep this message secret but knowing Brown he has people who might suspect him, after all he refused to kill a man it should be a dead giveaway. They'll know that he's up to something. I can't protect him in my position I can't notify Scotland Yard he was only seen as an asset of sorts. If worse circumstances come I may have the detective get involved. He would be able to help him.' With a blur of fingers I typed a second message giving thought into the detail. Finally finished I sent for a second Courier. 'I must see how good this detective is first.' The side of my mouth quirked into a quick smile before disappearing into a mask of concentration as another thug walked into the office.

_Dear Sherlock,_

_I will go no further in this matter. He suspects me. I can see that he suspects me. He came to me quite unexpectedly after I had actually addressed this envelope with the intention of sending you the key to the cipher. I was able to cover it up. If he had seen it, it would have gone hard with me. But I read suspicion in his eyes. Please burn the cipher message, which can now be of no use to you._

_-Fred Porlock_

With relief I sealed the letter without any mishaps. Too many people came into the typing room for anyone's liking.

"Willie!"

"Yes, Marm."

"Take this to the mail delivery man."

I grabbed a third sheet of paper and rapidly typed up a note.

_Fred Portlock, _

_I have received the news that a Mr. Birlstone will be killed if however by my intervention I will be able to save him. Meet me at the dock in the cabin of the ship, Lanyard. We will discuss details on saving him. _

_Yours Sincerely, _

_SH_

Slipping the telegram into my petticoat pocket I closed the office and went to the hotel most of Brown's men had stayed at, I grabbed small wire tools to pick locks, a basket full of coal and headed toward Grimm's room. Finding the hallway momentarily clear I listened at his door for any noise coming from the other side, none came. In the process of picking the lock footsteps were resounding down the hallway meaning I had little time to get in the room, in my haste my wire fell to the floor giving a dull metallic sound as it hit the floor. I turned around in time to see a "colleague" walk in sight as he climbed the last steps. I moved the wire just under the door with my foot and moved to the middle of the hallway.

"You bugger! Get your arse here and help me with this 'ere coal!" The man called Billy sneered

"You got up here you can carry it the rest of the way to the meetin', hag. I'm in a 'urry get out of me way." He shoved past, walking away to climb another set of stairs at the end of the hallway.

"Arse!" I growled loudly. Billy merely smirked and disappeared from sight. I finished unlocking Grimm's door. I scanned the contents of his person free room looking for any clues hinting that he was the one who wrote the letter. I grabbed his ink and parchment, thesaurus and set them in a blanket underneath the coal in my basket. I messed up his belongings to make it look like his belongings had been ransacked. 'That should keep him from acting suspicious for a little bit, hopefully he won't do anything stupid.' I exited the room relocking it. 'Time to plant evidence!' I headed toward Billy's room on the next floor before the meeting. After all an old 'crony' carrying coal can take a while.


	4. Chapter 4

_There are many ways to mislead the common individual, one important role that a mole plays is to be as unattractive and ignored as possible. Acting akin to an inexperienced person from the slums would certainly fool many but the game changes when others have acted the role before._

An elegant 24 year old woman sat in a carriage staring out the window watching the ever changing scenery of field and forest interchange at random. The driver had stopped at an inn conveniently 2 miles from a mansion. The woman paid the drive thanking him. Once she walked toward the stables the carriage was out of sight and she began her stroll toward the mansion. Hours had passed and she arrived in a slightly disheveled state. The woman took and onion from her purse and began to cut into it with her fingernails covering it with a handkerchief tears began to flow when she went to dab her eyes. She knocked at the front door minutes later a butler had opened it.

"Yes, what business do you have?"

"I require audience with your master Douglas Birlstone. It is of an urgent fragile matter, my name is Ann Lyndhurst."

"One moment madam." The butler disappeared only to reappear moments later. "Master Birlstone will see you." He guided her to a spacious formal room. A respectable man in his 30's stood by a fireplace mantle staring into the fire. He turned around at the sound of the butler announcing Ann's presence.

"Madam, how may I help you? Although I admit that not having an escort for a proper woman your age is slightly unnerving."

"It's my husband, Robert Lyndhurst. He died this morning in a carriage accident. A while back he said you were an acquaintance that would help me in case of his death, something about a debt owed." Ann dabbed her eyes and tears started to well in her eyes. Douglas came closer; sympathy was emanating from him.

"My dear woman, I had not realized the gravity of the situation. After 20 years to think Robert would remember that I still owed him. Yes, well I will set things right. Let's discuss it over tea madam." Ann nodded gently and stood from the couch.

"Before we have such a discussion, where may I freshen up my dreadful appearance, Sir Birlstone?" The man guided her to a room that went past the kitchen. He then proceeded back to inform the kitchen of their tea request and returned to the formal room to wait upon her. Ann had locked the door to the water closet and took out of vial of clear liquid from her purse and slipped it in her black lady gloves that she wore and reapplied her makeup. Listening for any noises outside she proceeded to exit the water closet and walked into the kitchen. Two cooks were shuffling around the area preparing different foods together. On the middle table a platter containing a steaming teapot with two tea cups and crumpets resided. A middle aged cooked had looked up upon Ann's entrance. "Add a lemon slice to my tea. I'm very sensitive at the moment and lemon is very comforting." The cooked dipped her head in acknowledgement.

"Yes mum." The cook slipped a slice of lemon in one of the tea cups. Ann took off her gloves and took the cup without the lemon and fingered the inner edge of the tea cup.

"Is this Rosina Bone? My, it has such a unique flower pattern, I like it." The cook looked up from her pot full of stew.

"Yes mum, the master brought them in some weeks past from a shipment all the way from China he did." The cook then returned to mincing ingredients.

"Yes, well I best return." Ann exited the kitchen. The black gloves were replaced upon her hands and she entered the formal room. Douglas stood upon seeing Ann and waved her to a chair that was straight across from his position. The woman sat as directed. At that moment the butler came in with the tea.

"Ah here's my man. Barrymore set the tea here, after that you may leave." Douglas waved at the glass table that separated Ann from Douglas in a dismissive manner. The butler bowed and did as instructed. After he had left Douglas sat down and took a rather large sip of tea before commencing his business. Ann took dainty sips of her lemon tea and waited.

"You have a wonderful home here sir. I'm envious of the lady who lives here." Douglas cleared his through after Ann spoke.

"Yes, well she died several year ago of polio it was a bitter parting I admit. I can understand the pain you are going through. It's such a pity Robert died in his 40's he was such a great man." Ann nodded her head. "I can provide you lodgings and chaperone while I help you with his funeral prep- , my apologies, prepa-" Douglas suddenly slumped deeply in his chair making the appearance of being in a drunk stupor. Ann looked around the room looking for a glass cabinet for any alcohol. She grabbed a bottle of wine from the cabinet and opened the bottle she emptied the contents into the teapot and place the bottle into Douglas' hand. "I like your silent companionship; it's easier to listen to." Ann kicked his boot. The preparations were set. A maid walked in at the moment and saw the drunken appearance of Douglas. She merely shook her head and grabbed the platter.

"My apologies miss, he really can't stay away from the bottle too long. After his wife's death you see he wasn't the same since."

"I will excuse this once." The maid nodded her head and left the room. Ann had found the butler moments later by the front entrance polishing shoes.

"Barrymore, your master has requested a carriage to be prepared; a hired driver has already come to take him to my residence to settle matters." The butler left. Ann ran toward the formal room and dragged Douglass to the stairs by the entrance of the mansion. She placed a hat over his head to shade his eyes. Barrymore had returned to see seemingly incapacitated master sitting at the base of the steps.

"It appears he couldn't withstand his cravings again I am deeply sorry madam. I will help him to the carriage for you." Ann expressed her thanks and brought her belongings with her. Moments had passed and Ann was seeing the mansion shrink in the distance. Seconds later groaning could be heard. Douglas was regaining his senses.

"Where the devil am I?" Douglas saw Ann and he understood. "You she-witch who are you? Tell me why I am being held captive?" Douglas began to struggle violently against the rope tied around his body.

"No time for pleasantries I'm afraid. At the moment my name isn't important. I'm glad you noticed you are bound I can't trust a "drunk" man after all; your old butler is very helpful. I must thank him later." Ann rambled pleasantly. Douglas cursed under his breath. She became serious at once. "I have a matter I would speak with you. You know James Brown? " Douglas stiffened slightly but otherwise keeping a charade of being aloof.

"I don't know the name."

"You know full well, who is he is. I'm not going to play any mind games we haven't the time for that. You needed to leave your home now."

"What do you want?" The man glared at Ann trying to get his hands free from the rope. Ann remained calm.

"I'm here to tell you that he is sending men out to kill you since you killed for him before, you simply know too much and you did refuse to help Brown with anymore killings. Was it a change of heart perhaps? No matter, his men are coming this very night in just a few hours." Douglas face paled.

"Why are you helping me?" Ann stared at him indifferently.

"As much as I would love to see you killed by your own kind, you are necessary for saving a more important life."

"But I can't just up and leave my home I worked hard to get here. Where will I go?" Ann eyes hardened.

"You could go back and die, it seems very appealing, or you could leave on a trip out of the country tell your hand to take off work for a week. As for now, go to the consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes, in London, 221B Baker Street. He will help you. I have stayed too long; I trust you will be safe. Good day sir I will let myself out." Ann knocked on the carriage and it came to a halt. The door was opened to show an untouched part of the country with only the road to show that it had slightly tamed. Ann disappeared from Douglas' sight as she closed the door to the carriage. The carriage began to move again away from the short stop that was made. A separate carriage laid hidden at a bend disguised under all the oak brush. Ann moved the brush and grabbed a duffel bag entered the carriage. Moments later an old distinguished graying coach driver came out and began to drive the coach.


	5. Chapter 5

_When a person has been blamed of a crime they didn't do, naturally they have nothing to fear for they didn't do it. But when evidence has been planted the odds are no matter how innocent they are they will be blamed and deal with the punishment. If it's a lesser of two evils than it can become necessary in order to not get caught. _

Another day had come for London and an angry Johns Brown paced the meeting room while his entire "staff" awaited his speech. I watched the group carefully as I moved the coals around in the fireplace.

"I gave a simple request, did I not? Get rid of Douglas Birlstone. I wake up today and hear the news that he is not gone but has left the country on a whim. How can you explain THIS?" Brown had turned around to look at the staff. Grimm shuffled his feet looking intently at the wood flooring. "Coulter, come forward." A tall red headed man weakly stepped forward. Grimm released the tension building in his shoulders. "You were part of the men I sent, well what did you find?" The man took out a worn brown wool coat and a note.

"It was on the floor in the formal room. Mr. Brown." A gasp came from Billy. John Brown took the note and looked at Billy. He read the contents and he cracked a pleasant smile. "Well it seems there's been a mistake hasn't there Billy? After all your coat can't be at the mansion of the man you were supposed to kill." Brown gave a sympathetic look.

"Yes sir, I was never there. There must be a misunderstanding s'all." Coulter gave Billy a suspicious glance.

"If it's a misunderstanding you wouldn't mind if we check your room?"

"Not at all sir; I've notin ta hide." Brown nodded toward Coulter who brought two other men with him. Moments later they returned with a note. Brown grabbed it and read.

"Coulter, snag him and start interrogation. Feel free to do whatever you want until he starts talking I want all the answers. If not just get rid of him" I heard Brown whisper to Coulter. The red head nodded and forcefully grabbed Billy dragging him out of the room.

"No, NO! I'm innocent you've got to believe me! Someone must have put the note there. It's Grimm! He's the traitor he kept on sending notes. He probably put the note there. Mr. Brown ya gotta believe me!" Brown turned toward me. Billy's screaming had receded and finally died down.

"Allison, what kind of notes was Grimm sending?" I stepped forward.

"Oh, ya mean those nau'ty poems 'e be sendin to 'is prostitutes? They were talkin' 'bout undoin' a corset an'…" Abruptly, I was interrupted by Brown in the beginning of my story.

"Yes, that's enough Allison, we have the picture. Grimm don't use the work telegraphs for you vulgar use it could put us in an unsavory circumstance. I'll dock pay the next time you do it. Oh and next time do my bidding as I wish it next time." Grim mumbled an apology and agreed to his terms. Brown concluded the meeting. "Well the problem is solved everyone go back to work." John Brown waved everyone away as he entered his own office that conjoined with the meeting hall. He abruptly closed the door and locked it. I watched everyone leave and put out the fire slowly until the last person was gone. I took out a stethoscope from my hidden compartment in the coal basket and crouched by the door. I placed the drum onto the door and listened.

"… Well tell the professor there's been a slight delay in plans. He can't own the mining business until Birlstone is dead. His partner has already agreed to give us half of the shares but Birlstone still owns the other half while he lives. We will track him down…" I heard faint footsteps coming toward the meeting hall. I stuffed my stethoscope in my apron and quietly walked back to the fire. I picked up my basket and turned around to see Grimm standing there.

"You're not such a bad hag after all you old ninny just a little hard on the outside. Thank you." Grimm murmured and started leaving the room.

"Shudup, you git! I don't want to see ya face!" Grimm turned around and nodded his head smirking before he disappeared from sight. I left the meeting hall and headed toward the typing shop. 'This is getting complicated.' I sighed inwardly.


End file.
